


Cursed

by multifandom_stay



Category: ASTRO (Band), K-pop, Stray Kids (Band), The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Bomin and Sanha are best friends, Character Death, Crimes & Criminals, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Mutation, Siblings Hwang Hyunjin & Hwang Yeji, Superpowers, Villains, Work In Progress, Yeji is younger in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23416375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifandom_stay/pseuds/multifandom_stay
Summary: Running. The sounds of trainers thudding against the ground. Crunching gravel. Hands clutching at the torn material of a hoodie. Blood. Gunshots. Blood on hands. Hands gripping metal rails. Feet landing. A hiss of pain. Wind. Wind everywhere. A shadow. Distorted words. A spray of blood. Falling. Falling. Falling. Thud. Car alarm screeching into the morning.And Kim Seungmin woke up.
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin
Kudos: 18





	1. Premonitions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so this is my first fanfiction on here. I hope you like it. :D

Running. The sounds of trainers thudding against the ground. Crunching gravel. Hands clutching at the torn material of a hoodie. Blood. Gunshots. Blood on hands. Hands gripping metal rails. Feet landing. A hiss of pain. Wind. Wind everywhere. A shadow. Distorted words. A spray of blood. Falling. Falling. Falling. Thud. Car alarm screeching into the morning.

And Kim Seungmin woke up.

The iris of each eye glowed a faint yellow. Terror shook through his body. He'd just watched someone die. No - not just someone - Yang Jeongin.

Seungmin knew the kid. He was a year younger than him. He didn't live in the area, nor the city. He was a kid from Busan that visited Seoul. He'd met the boy once through Eric Sohn. Eric Sohn was the only reason Jeongin would travel to Seoul. And judging the dream, Yang Jeongin would die in Seoul.

Seungmin sat up on the couch. His living quarters were a stingy sized studio apartment that he shared with his half-brother, Sunwoo. The mentioned was snoring in his bed three steps away. 

Seungmin fumbled for his phone, allowing the electronic device to grant him the time. 2:00. 

Rubbing away his bed hair, he swung himself to his feet, pushing away the thick, winter blanket. He pulled on his trainers, yanking a hoodie over his head, and then another warm coat, wrapped a scarf around his neck, slipped on a mask and stepped outside.

His irises glowed again, as he glimpses a door being slammed shut. The swish of hair. Unapologetic spitefulness. The same door he is staring at now. He shuddered.

Locking the door behind him, he walked into the freezing, brutal outside.

There was little snow, though the roads were coated in ice, and the winter had begun in its harshness. Seungmin walked. Walked down the narrow alley, barely lit by the flickering glow of the lamppost. It was dark; the kind of place a drug deal might take place in. The fact failed to deter Seungmin.

He knew the alleys as though the map had been engraved into his mind. He knew the paths, and who took them. He knew it all just as easily as he knew what was about to happen.

His destination was the wall outside a bar. He knew who he would meet. He knew the close future of that person, too. The bar door opened, on cue, and a shivering figure stumbled out.

He was lanky, skinny, his clothes hanging feebly off of him. His shirt was stained with some sort of beverage, probably beer, and he reeked of the bar. Despite all this, he was completely sober, save for his panicking and rushing mind. Seungmin calmly fished into his coat pocket for a cigarette. 

"You got a lighter?"

The boy sighed, pulling one out, as though on routine. 

"Smoking is bad for you, Kim."

"I know."

"You could die from it."

"Better to die from my own doing than someone else's hand."

He lit the cigarette, returning the lighter. He didn't bother to offer one. He already knew the answer.

"When you return home, don't sneak in through the front. Climb the tree into your bedroom window. The same for the morning." He advised nonchalantly as he blew out a plume of smoke.

The taller scrunched his nose in distaste, nodding and leaving.

Seungmin knew a lot about the boy. Hwang Hyunjin. The boy who sat in front of him in class. The boy whose mother was considered a lost cause by all but him. The son of a man who lacked good intentions. The older brother of a girl too innocent for the life she lived. A boy who struggled to clutch the seams of his life that were constantly threatening to fall apart.

Somewhere in his mind, he worried for the other, having seen glimpses of his hardship, though he knew it was not his place to directly interfere. He’d foreseen a future upon which he had directly interfered, and it hadn’t been pretty. Not that the future was pretty. Yang Jeongin dying was anything but pretty.

His feet wandered as he blew out the smoke from his cigarette. The process was calming. It was something that he could control. In some way, perhaps, he was hoping it would cause his death to creep further before the time he’d seen, but nothing had changed. Time and the future were infinitely uncontrollable things. A mere decision or action could change the whole course of time. Time and the future shifted like waves of the ocean, flowing among one another with possibilities, undecidedly. Only one thing in his visions was affirmative: his death. He’d witnessed it far too many times; screaming in the dark of the night as a child as a supposed nightmare overtook his brain, repeating itself again and again; each detail engraving itself into his mind.

He knew how it would happen when it would happen, but not what led to it, not what it would bring. It was a terrifying thought. Of course, everybody died at some point in their life, they weren’t immortals despite a simple (illegal) mutation.

Seungmin sighed, dropping the cigarette to the ground, snuffing it out mercilessly into the snow with the sole of his trainer. Life was a fickle thing. And no matter how much one tried to control it, it was persistent until the end. After all, having always had the foresight of the future, Seungmin knew that death was always predetermined, no matter how each life ended. Yang Jeongin would die in the near future, and there would be nothing anyone could do to stop it. And as always, Seungmin agreed that his mutation was no blessing, but a curse.


	2. Helpless Cycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyunjin's life is a cycle of helplessness.

Hwang Hyunjin feels defeated as he walks home. This is nothing unusual. He faces the same routine; over and over again. As the evening settles deeper into the night, he’s into another bar. Unlike the usual drunken fools with fake IDs, he’s searching. Searching for someone. His mother. 

She’s far long gone, but he can still remember a time when she smiled at him with love and wrapped his small form into her arms. He just can’t bring himself to give up on her. And yet, each night is the same; running into a bar, breaking into the back. There is an illegal ring around most of the bars in the area. The dingy places that see money in helpless people. His mother is one of them.

He rarely sees her, and each time he does, he wishes he didn’t. He wishes he didn’t recognise the sickly, drugged woman who can’t even recognise her own son. A woman who has just simply given up, seeing no reason to care about anything anymore. Hyunjin wonders why he cares. Wonders why he puts himself at such risk to find her. It’s not like she’d leave with him either way; he’s tried before and failed.

Perhaps he continues because it’s routine; an endless circle of denial. And yet, the truth is always there. She lives in another world; a terrible, cruel, heartless world. A world he can’t make her leave. He sighs as he walks in the darkness. He wonders why he hasn’t just given up.

He takes Seungmin’s heed when he enters, climbing the tree beside his bedroom window. There’s a large gap of fearful height, but he trusts Seungmin’s advice. He has no other choice. He reaches across the gap, clutching onto the tree with his other arm. The window is old, broken; it is easy for anyone to break into. The thought scares him, but he knows that nothing about that will ever change. The window will always remain broken. Because that is just how it is. His school uniform will always be creased and dirty when he arrives at school. His body will always be covered in cuts and bruises. Because that is just how it is. 

He pushes open the window, bracing himself before he launches himself towards it. It’s a risky move. He could miss and fall. He might die. He might be badly injured, but he wonders if anyone would care. Seungmin might, but then again, they haven’t ever had a real, proper conversation. His parents certainly wouldn’t care. Nor his stepmother. Nor the school bullies, or the gangs. No, they wouldn’t. But Yeji would. He has to care because of Yeji. Yeji is all he has, and he is all Yeji has.

He doesn’t miss. He clambers into the window, thankful that the clattering noise of his entrance fails to stir the sleeping girl. Yeji is sweet; so sweet. Her face is painted with innocence, though it hurts him to notice the purple that blooms across her jaw. She’s younger than him; at the tender age of six, and he simply has failed to protect her again.

He closes the window, though it doesn’t close properly; there’s still a gap where it doesn’t align properly. Clothes are soon replaced, and he is soon in warm layers. He holds an extra hoodie in his grasp, carefully pulling it over the sleeping, shivering girl. The cold air is streaming through the open crack, and the blanket is thin. He slips in, holding her form close to his chest, and wishing he could protect her from all the cruelty of the world. 

There’s a thud at the door. A moan. His father is doing it again; cheating on his stepmother as usual. In the back of his mind, he pities the woman, but it’s not like she has ever been nice to him or Yeji either.

Yeji shifts in his grasp, though she doesn’t wake, murmuring gibberish. He holds her tighter, clenching his eyes shut to keep back the easy tears. He shouldn’t cry; not yet. It’s not safe yet. He calms his thoughts and dreams of a world where he and Yeji live in peace.

Hyunjin is shaken awake by Yeji. The six-year-old is dressed in her uniform and is looking at him. 

“The alarm went off.”

She’s whispering, which is an immediate tell-tale of her fear. Somewhere, from downstairs, there is a crash and he immediately realises what has happened. Their stepmother and father must be arguing again. She probably found out again.

Hyunjin sits up, just as Yeji sneezes. He also notices that she isn’t wearing the white tights she usually does in winter.

“Where are your tights?”

Yeji looks close to tears.

“I’m so sorry, Oppa.” She blubbers, and he slightly frowns, placing a hand of comfort on her shoulder.

“Don’t cry. I’m not mad.”

“I fell and they got ruined. The nurse said I should get new ones, but Oppa, please don’t. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

His eyes travel to her knees, now noticing the plaster that adorns one. He’s brought out of his airy daze when she sneezes. There is no way she’s going to school without at least tights; they might not be much, but it’s better than nothing.

“How much time until we have to leave?” 

Yeji looks at the clock. She’s smarter than most children her age.

“Fifteen minutes.” 

Hyunjin nods. 

“Bring me your tights and the sewing kit.” He orders, before rushing to change into his own uniform.

He dresses quickly, before sitting back onto the bed. He fishes in the sewing kit for the white thread and a needle, before pulling the tights inside out. He carefully mends the tights, hissing lowly as he pricks his finger. It’s luckily not deep enough for blood to spill, and he continues. 

He glances at the clock as he finishes. There are five minutes left. The tights look odd, with his clumsy stitching, and he hopes it will be alright for Yeji.

“Change quickly. We are going to leave through the window.”

She looks afraid, something he has anticipated, and he is soon ready, with his school bag on his back. He opens the window, crouching on the windowsill and leaping for the tree. He lands almost perfectly, then turns to Yeji. She’s practically shaking in her terror, body frozen.

He reaches his hand out towards her. 

“C’mon Yeji. Just grab my hand; I’ve got you.”

“Oppa, I’m scared.”  
She reaches for his hand, clenching it tightly in her grasp.

“Look at me. Just keep looking at me. I’ve got you.”

He edges towards her slightly, ready to support her weight.

“Jump.”

She does, Landing on a branch that creaks and almost snaps under her weight. Hyunjin is quick to grab her close to his body. She’s shaking now, tears slipping down her cheeks as she clutches onto his shirt.

“I’ve got you. You’re alright now. You’re safe.”

And for a moment or so, they remain in the tree, holding onto one another.


	3. School Bullies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How willing are you to stand up to a bully?

The morning was a rush of voices and bodies as students made their way up the hill, through the gate and into the school grounds. Choi Bomin worriedly fiddled with his fingers outside of the gate as he stood, waiting. Suddenly, the air was knocked out of his lungs in shock as someone threw themselves over his shoulder. 

Bomin stumbled, turning to meet the face of a grinning Yoon Sanha. He shoved the other playfully. 

“You scared me!”

Sanha merely laughed.

“That just means I’m getting better. You didn’t even know I was coming.”

“You’ve been practising.”

And Sanha had. The boy was light on his feet, but Bomin had always teased him about a further advantage; the other boy’s mind was loud, and Bomin could hear his thoughts before he saw the boy. Now, though, Sanha had been practising on blocking his mind, keeping walls up. They had long since agreed that it would be useful against an attack from any other mind reader or manipulator. In short: Sanha’s mind was now almost impossible to penetrate.

Together, the two walked into the school building. The crowds of students had partially died down, and they could easily walk to their classroom. Sanha suddenly tensed.

“What’s wro-” Bomin began to ask, as Sanha quickly caught the attention of their classmate.

“Do we really have History first?”

Their classmate, a girl whose name Bomin couldn’t remember nodded, before complaining again. Sanha immediately turned to Bomin. 

“My History textbook is in my locker. And you know how the teacher gets.”

Bomin grimaced.

“I’ll give you two minutes. Then, I’ll find you.”

“It’s closer to lesson time, though. They surely won’t be there.”

Bomin gave him a look and Sanha was quick to rush in the direction of his locker. Sighing, Bomin leaned against a nearby wall, keeping a close eye on his watch. Two minutes passed quickly, and Bomin considered giving Sanha another few seconds; it was possible for Sanha to be a little late. However, just as he had decided this, he felt a stream of frantic thoughts hit his mind. Wincing, he noticed his surroundings. Few students lingered, and Bomin concentrated. There was no doubt that Sanha was in trouble. Again.

Bomin rushed towards their lockers, just in time to see a group of boys kick against a locker door. No. And yet, as if on cue, he heard Sanha’s muffled screams for help from within the locker. Bomin had to act and he had to do it fast. Sanha was claustrophobic, and considering the fact that they’d gotten him into the small metal thing, he was most probably injured and in pain. 

He quickly scanned the boys ahead. There were five of them, and two held the most confident thoughts. If he played his cards right, he might be able to make the other three bolt. He lunged for the first one. 

Bomin was no fighter, and this put him at a major disadvantage. This boy, however, was also taller and stronger, lifting Bomin off the ground by the collar of his shirt. He laughed and sneered in his face, but Bomin gathered his thoughts and hit a solid punch into the guy’s jaw, whilst kicking him between his legs. He was sent sharply into the ground in his release, sending a shoot of pain up both of his ankles. And yet, this couldn’t compare to the satisfaction of hearing the other’s panic-ridden thoughts as pain overtook his senses. Seizing the chance, he landed two kicks into the guy’s ribs, just as the second yanked his body away.

Right. There were still two major threats. Tapping into the guy’s mind, he was able to anticipate his next move, and before the male could carry it out, he slammed his head backwards, taking the other off guard. He wriggled out of the other’s grasp, punching him in the side and throwing him into the lockers before he turned intimidatingly towards the other three. True to his predictions, they fled, down the small corridor and out of sight.

He turned to the lockers, as he registered the feeble hits against the metal. His eyes honed in on the lock as his disgust at the boys grew.

“The key.”

He turned to the two males in pain. The one against the locker pulled a key from his pocket, stumbling to his feet. Bomin yanked it from his grasp just as the boy shoved Bomin into a nearby dustbin. Yuck. Bomin felt like retching, and he kicked blindly as he attempted to escape the filthy prison. His foot connected with something and he used it as leverage to pull himself out. He rushed to the locker, unlocking it and pulling out a tear-stained and raggedly dressed Sanha. They locked hands, grabbing Sanha’s bag, and ran.

Sanha helped Bomin adjust himself to appear more presentable, and Bomin helped Sanha to adjust his tie. He noted how Sanha flinched as he moved.

“You’re hurt.”

Sanha shook his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Not now.”

Bomin nodded, and they continued down the hall. As they walked, the sound of yelling grew louder, and they paused.

“Little disgrace; just like your mother.” The first voice spat. Bomin recognised it as one of the maths teachers - a man who had grown bitter and cruel as each day had passed.

“I’m sorry.” The second voice whimpered weakly with a formal tongue.

They crept past and as they did, they watching horror as the teacher slapped a thick textbook across the boy’s face, sending his head to the side. Bomin locked eyes with Hwang Hyunjin. The boy had the looks of his mother and the pain of any kid in his area. He desperately wanted to help, but he knew it would only make things worse. Guiltily, he broke their eye contact as continued to follow Sanha as another slap resonated through the air, causing them both to flinch.

They couldn’t help, because it would make no difference. People would always pick on them and single them out, and everyone else would simply have to move on. Bomin pitied Hyunjin in that moment and himself. He hated himself for not having the courage to help the other. But as always, it had simply been better to leave it all alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, 
> 
> Sorry I haven't really been updating often or with a schedule. I've been struggling a little with writing. I hope you're enjoying it so far, though.
> 
> \- R :D

Shin Yuna was a sweet girl nearing the age of ten. The extroverted girl was bubbly with bright eyes that shone with loyalty and innocence. Despite her age, she was more aware of the cruelty of the world, having long since given up on waiting day by day for somebody to knock on the door of the orphanage and call her theirs.

She'd grown accustomed to little constant within her life, with the exception of Yang Jeongin, of course. Yang Jeongin was like a reliable older brother to Yuna. In the shifts between foster homes and orphanages, she'd often crossed paths with the older, who'd showered her with love and comfort. He was the closest thing she had to family, but perhaps that line had long since been crossed. He was family.

He was the only family she had; the only constant in her rushing life of varying friends that came and went unpredictably. They had nobody but each other at times, which is why it worried her to see him packing his belongings. 

"It's only for a few weeks, Yuna." He reassured her. "Don't worry; I'll be back before you know it."

But something deep inside her gut stirred. Something felt awfully and horribly wrong

"Please, Oppa! Please don't go. I can't lose you. Please don't leave me."

Jeongin looked up from his suitcase, meeting her wide and racing eyes. The desperation was etched upon her face, carved into each detail of her expression. 

"I'm not leaving you. Ever. You're my little sister - I wouldn't trade you for the world."

He held out his pinky finger in promise. She hesitated. Surely, Jeongin wouldn't make promises he couldn't keep. She hooked her own small pinky around his, before pressing their thumbs together.

"Promise." He grinned, his braces glinting in the light of the lamp. 

Yuna smiled back, sweetly. For, surely, everything would be fine. It was Jeongin - afterall - and Jeongin knew lots of almost-grown-up stuff that Yuna didn't. Everything would be fine. Everything would be alright.

Standing, Jeongin stepped over the suitcase with ease, before pulling the younger into a warm hug. She clutched onto the back of his sweater tightly, not wanting to let go.

“Yuna, you’re the best little sister in the whole, wide world. I love you, lots.” He whispered to her, as though it were the most precious of secrets.

She giggled, happiness blooming in her cheeks and eyes as she gazed up at the older.

“Oppa, you’re the bestest brother in the whole, wide world. I love you too.” She grinned with satisfaction, as he began to rock their bodies gently.

It was just them; the two of them in their own little world. Much like the time as children, when they had hoarded all of their most precious items onto Jeongin’s bed and huddled together under blankets while pretending the bed floated them away on a magical river off to another universe. Like the times they had imagined a forest of trees of silver and gold, and grass that beautifully green. Like all the times they had held each other in sheer happiness, comfortable in the familiar warmth of each other; best friends and siblings until the end. A perfection within their worlds of imperfection.

And like always, Yuna couldn’t help but wish deep within her heart that it would never end. But that was, certainly, not the way that life works; Yuna knew that much.

“Can we nap together?” She whispered.

“Yes. But first, you’ve got to help me lose my suitcase.” Jeongin teased, pulling away from the hug.

Yuna leapt from his loose arms quickly, closing the suitcase and firmly sitting crossed-legged on the top. 

“You can close it now.”

Jeongin laughed but did as asked, zipping up the suitcase with ease. Then, he pulled back the bed covers and gestured towards it. 

“C’mon. Or we’ll miss naptime.” He teased, and she was quick to settle into the blankets, before tugging him in by the wrist.

They embraced again, Yuna relishing in the warmth and comfort as Jeongin gently pressed a kiss to the top of her head before settling down.

“Sleep tight.” He whispered, but she had already fallen asleep.

The door was nudged open from the outside and a boy entered. His eyes glistened a deep blue; the clear tell-tale of one who possesses power.

“I agree with her. You shouldn’t go. I have a bad feeling about it; like you’re not going to come back.”

They barely knew each other, barely trusted one another, but the boy’s words made Jeongin frown. 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He murmured, looking back at Yuna. 

She looked peaceful; content. There was no way that he would never return. She was his little sister and he couldn’t just let her down like that. Not to mention, Eric Sohn rarely visited these days, and Jeongin hadn’t seen the other in a while. They were friends - good friends - there was no way he was going to pass up this chance.

“It’s only for a few days.” He added finally. He had made his decision final: he was going to Seoul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take care and stay safe. Try to wash your hands and stay at home as much as possible.
> 
> :D


End file.
